the essence is scattered (the essence is shattered)
by Broken Antler in Winter
Summary: AU from House of Hades. Percy Jackson uses all of his essence (all the little itty bitty pieces of being) to defeat Gaea, and he doesn't come out right. Maybe he's not the man he used to be. Maybe it's driven him insane. Maybe he's going to Tartarus. (But this isn't the story of him, the hero who remembers smoke, seawater, and death, this is the story of his daughter.) Angst it.


**the essence is scattered (the essence is shattered)**

* * *

><p>Before we start, do you mind if we swear? Alright.<p>

Once upon a time, shit happens and everything gets _so fucked up._ Sorry, we just had to let that out, since the world is not just and your heroes will always die.

And if they accept immortality, well, they're not your heroes anymore, are they?

With us Greeks, it's gone to the point that a tragedy is a cliche, but we aren't here to make the story fresher or kinder, we're here to tell the truth.

So, the story goes like this: despite it all, despite saving the world once and again, the Hero of Olympus cannot save himself. Actually, scratch that. Because the Hero of Olympus needs to save the world, he has to make a choice. He chooses to save the world and he chooses to break.

Honestly, though, does _anyone expect anything different_? Gaea is awakened to destroy all that we have built and they've always called Poseidon the Earthshaker. "I have a plan," Percy Jackson shouts at the top of his lungs, and that's a lie, of course, but they believe him wholeheartedly. After all, in war, cling on to the little hopes you have if you do not want to risk desolation.

"I need you to help me clear the space separating us from where Gaea is awakening!" It's such a small, small hope, and how can a little demigod think to do anything against something like Gaea? But he's been told, oh he has been told, that he is the strongest demigod of this generation (and perhaps it does nothing to make his head smaller) and for a second he wonders how horrible it is for his mom who would love him even if he is nothing before charging forward.

He's good at that. Charging, we mean.

Annabeth casts him a worried glance from the other side of the battlefield, leading the campers through a throng of monsters, knife slashing furiously. Leo and Nico help him blaze a trail through the monsters guarding the rise of Gaea, and everything smells of smoke and seawater and death.

This is what he will remember years later. Nothing else but smoke, seawater, and death.

They say that the moment comes later on, when he spends all of his energy, all of this godliness lying inside of him, on defeating an age-old enemy. Of course, being the storytellers, we can tell you that it''s not there, it's a moment before, when he sinks with the realization that he will die or live broken and die and die again and again. After all, only a madman can do what he does.

A prayer and a hope.

A tug in his gut, as is tradition, and he screams.

(If you want us to tell you the truth, then the truth is that this isn't when the madness begins, only when it shows. He's different after Tartarus, no one's the same after going through hell, and there's all this pent up energy, all of this rage and fear and horror and hate that he has to smile through because he's a leader and he can't must something-)

The earth shakes, it does, and with it Gaea.

His eyes glow, they do, and everything is storming.

The thing is, no one is conscious in the next hour or so (and maybe that's why everything goes so wrong), for the winds are too strong and seems to suck the breath right out of them. Percy Jackson explodes into a typhoon of winds and shearing rain, eyes glowing as green as the Oracle of Delphi except that's not right since Percy Jackson is made of the mad sea in all of it's untameable glory, pulsing in the tide of the sea. The winds are faster than any venti and no one can hear their own screams and they can't scream and breathe and all the monsters are dying and the earth is quaking, splitting and they learn the meaning of Earthshaker.

It's hard to describe. There's only one human (half-human) who witnesses the display, and he-

He's the one who causes it.

So, here we are, staring into the story of a (broken) hero.

The winds whip (or at least we think they do), and the storm howls like we should imagine. A yellow light burns through the cracks in the ground, before shattering the earth into a violent explosion of dirt and dust. Our dear hero Percy Jackson screams his throat out (it'll be sore and raw for many weeks after) and rips his essence apart into bloody, broken pieces.

That is how we shall explain why even Dionysus could not heal him. His essence rips into pieces, and they might be put back together again, but Tartarus seethes in the cracks; there are those things you cannot escape at night.

That is how they defeat Gaea, because humans have always been made of something different, and the shock of it puts a primordial goddess right back to sleep.

The lift of the winds falters, and he falls and (falls and falls and falls and falls and) crashes limply to the ground. Crack. Crack. Crack.

Broken bones and broken homes.

It's actually a good deal, in our judgement. Heroes deserve happy endings, but so rarely do people get what they deserve that if it's for the greater good, then who is it to dispute the Fates? After all, billions of lives are saved. All that are sacrificed are demigod lives and one little tiny itty bitty hero's sanity.

(When they wake up, they find his body among the rubble, so everyone takes a breath of relief when he's barely alive but clinging on.)

And the ambrosia and nectar can fill all your holes.

(When he wakes up, they find that maybe he's already dead inside.)

And the ambrosia and nectar can't heal your soul.

* * *

><p>Two months after it all, Annabeth finds out she is pregnant with her mad lover's child. It's the Fates' job, to throw them these little bumps. Give her a child when she's so close to giving up. We can't blame her, though, because Percy Jackson is not, and never will be, the man he used to be.<p>

There is something vacant in his eyes, and even after all the cuts and bruises heal, there are still those scars, not just the mental ones, that will never fade away.

The worst, in fact, is a long, ugly split along his torso, with ugly slashes branching out. Everyone, except Percy, seems to know where the scar comes from (of putting a goddess to sleep and breaking a mortal). When he's slightly lucid, he takes Annabeth's hand (and, as you'd expect of the greatest romance of this generation, she never leaves his side even when she knows that all they have is lost), and runs a finger down the scar, brows furrowed and eyes empty.

Of all the things that make a Son of Poseidon, they'd always say the eyes, but now the eyes do not show a boundless sea. He is static.

So, let's start with earlier, before the child conceived before this aftermath of a final battle is discovered, right after he wakes from this deep, death-like slumber. And they are on the Argo, this time far more than Seven this time, and everyone is mourning and celebrating in equal measure.

To start from there, we must tell you something, and it isn't pretty. Not much in a hero's life is. He wakes up screaming, screaming and screaming and trying to scratch the skin off his arms. His jagged nails make shallow scars and his eyes are dilated in fear and fear and fear and that's when they know that he's alive but they've lost him anyways like so many comrades-

He is not the hero they might have buried.

"Stop, stop, you're safe, Percy! You're safe!" Annabeth says, tears streaming down her face. She thought- she thought since he was still alive that they would have it back to the way- But the Fates have always liked playing with them, and this is just another impassable mountain. He's stopped screaming, and looks to her with half hope and half fear, eyes only seeing her and her grey eyes like anchors.

"You're safe, I'm here, we're all here." Well, that's a lie, but the history books seem to forget to mention that Annabeth Chase is a liar, so we'll suffice. She is a liar. She is such a liar. Percy's almost apocalyptic hurricane and earthshaking, thankfully, did not kill any demigods, only injures, but it proved too late for some to be saved.

(Of course, you all know that. Clarisse La Rue, Centurion Dakota, Drew Tanaka -the history books are a little kinder to her than the stories they tell and she did help win a war-, and more and more and more. Their gravestones stand while you live in one of the camps and visit another, and their stories will fade day by day.)

"Anna-Annabeth?" There's a hoarse, stilted stutter, and he launches himself weakly into her arms.

Actually, it isn't as romantic as you'd imagine. We thought that way when we were younger too, even if not all that much is that perfect in a demigod's life, and we'd know all about that, wouldn't we?

As soon as Percy grasps Annabeth's, as soon as he is in her arms, the witnesses say that he collapses in screams. You see, we'd imagine that everything was fine, but here's how it really goes: he collapses in screams in her arms, and she's screaming too. He's disturbed the broken and bruised ribs and pressed the horrendous, infected wound down his chest, and the cuts and stabs and scratches littered on his body like black and blue and crimson souvenirs.

His face is pale, there are bags under his eyes, and he's too thin- He's still screaming, they're both screaming, and it's the first sign that they can't fix each other, that they'll break each other even more.

(Just so you know, they won't understand until much later, some time too late.)

A son of Hypnos gives him sleep, peace, and a Lieutenant of Artemis (Thalia Grace is quite famous. We've met her before, and she still visits the camps, so then maybe you have too) puts her hands on Annabeth's shoulders, and reassures her, "He's strong. He will get better."

"But...didn't you-" We're pretty sure sobs will wrack her body around here, since no one there will ever tell anyone what occurs. She's despairing because she is Percy's anchor and he is her's, so when neither of them can do anything while one of them (both) break apart, they are both floating, lost at sea.

(That's our little joke. Son of Poseidon and Daughter of Athena, lost at sea. Yes, it's not very funny.)

For the heroes, it will never be the physical that breaks them. Whatever breaks always, always has to be the heart. He's asleep now, and his breath stutters once in a while. She brushes his hair out of his sunken, closed eyes, and she turns to Thalia in despair. "What do I do if he never comes back?"

"I don't know, Annabeth. I don't." Everyone's gone by now, and their facades completely crack.

Annabeth does stay by his side this entire time, only leaving when the others visit. Hazel leaves in half anger and half tears, to return later to help Annabeth. Frank- he's angry, like they all are. Leo, Piper, and Jason, they never knew Percy that well, and they're missing those bonds formed by little quests, but they are friends and friends don't leave each other behind-

Why does it feel like they lost it all?

And Nico di Angelo doesn't visit at all, at least as far as they know, except for us, since we know everything except what matters. It's midnight, and everyone is asleep, and Annabeth has been slipped a potion that keeps her eyes closed and her mind away from the nightmares (for a moment in time). Nico comes in, presses a quick kiss to his forehead that tries to convey something (it's just a crush), and disappears into the shadows.

We think it's more of a goodbye to the hero he might have known.

When they get back to Manhattan, Percy Jackson goes back to his mother's home, and Annabeth goes with him, as is expected.

Everyone else tries to move on.

Grover Underwood, Lord of the Wild- You know him! He visits once because he's heard of all these tales and wishes so much that they aren't true, but when he sees this person who isn't his best friend, we expect he turns away sadly and thinks for a moment that there he is. The greatest demigod of the generation, the greatest friend he has ever had. Percy Jackson becomes another demigod that this satyr cannot save.

We think there might be other worlds, worlds where this hero doesn't turn into a shaking, trembling shell of what he once was, where we would meet the Hero of Olympus when we are just little children at Camp and he'd probably come to teach swordsmanship. This is not one those worlds, and the ghosts are still dying inside.

(And if you listen closely, ever so closely, in Camp Half-Blood at night, you can hear the sound of screams.)

* * *

><p>So, here we are, two months later.<p>

Annabeth's torn, she is. She loves him with all her heart but she can't stand it anymore, to try to bring him back to his ghost. Through the cold monotony of once again rebuilding the camps and getting him to eat and sleep and trying to get him to stop screaming when she feels like dying inside, she never notices it at all. We think it's that, because a daughter of Athena has never proved so unaware.

Her period has stopped coming, she goes to see the doctor with Sally over some sickness. The man comes back smiling widely, as if it's his favourite part of the job. "Congratulations, Miss Chase. You're going to have an addition to your family!"

And half a scream and half a cry comes from her throat, because she would be so, so happy and scared about this if it were any other time, but this is her life now: living in a small New York apartment with a Hero of Olympus, his parents, and trying to heal.

Now, this is the part that you all know well, and this is the part that we'll try to tell in truth only, with a few guesses in between, because Annabeth Chase does not deserve to be demonized. Annabeth Chase has been hero, survivor, and victim. Annabeth Chase deserves some happiness, and maybe that is why she leaves.

Sally cares for her while she is pregnant, and for a moment they both wonder why in the world she doesn't just have an abortion. When Sally tells Percy, "You're going to have a son or daughter, your own little baby, you know that, Percy?" he stares back before looking down at his hands and whispering, "Annabeth, Annabeth, Annabeth, Annabeth, Annabeth," like a mantra.

They don't know why they keep the child, and in the end it's something in between hoping that it will make him come back and knowing that this child will be so, so loved.

("Oh, Percy," Sally asks one day, looking at the scar on her son's arm, "how did you get this?")

(She doesn't expect him to answer, but when he does, he says, "I don't know.")

So, Annabeth leaves for San Francisco, to live in New Rome, eventually, and perhaps she'll will find a new love and a new life and something more permanent than Percy Jackson's fleeting moments of clarity where he'll remember enough to say "I love you." As you already know, she does, and maybe the world is better for that.

She can't heal among his reminders, and this isn't just the story of his ending.

The truth is, if she stays here, she will have the bright, happy, blinding moments, but nothing will be able to drown out the smell of Tartarus, the constant reminders, and the insistent whispers of the could-have-beens.

She leaves, and Sally insists, "Eat, sleep, and try to be happy." Percy has nightmares for weeks after she leaves.

Still, it's probably for the best.

Pyrrha Jackson-Chase grows up with two loving, caring grandparents. Pyrrha Jackson-Chase grows up with a half-absent mother, living halfway across the country with a family of her own, who visits her and loves her like only a mother can and always trembles so when she sees her father. Pyrrha Jackson-Chase grows up with a pale, shaking ghost of a father who looks at her like she's the most beautiful, most impossible thing in the world.

Here's a fact the history books leave out. Instead of chanting, "Annabeth, Annabeth, Annabeth, Annabeth," as he stared into his hands, he chants, "Pyrrha, Pyrrha, Pyrrha, Pyrrha," and always looks her into her sea-green eyes.

In another life, Percy Jackson would give Annabeth Chase the world.

In this life, he can't.

(Hint: that's the tragedy.)

* * *

><p>The funny thing about Pyrrha's grandmother, Sally Jackson, is that she never, ever, ever gets mad at her for being a complete failure at school. The funny thing about Pyrrha's grandfather, Paul Blofis, is that, first of all, he isn't actually her grandfather, though she never dwells on that, and that he, being an English teacher, buys her copies of epics in Ancient Greek and let's her dad teach her it before bed.<p>

The funny thing about Pyrrha's dad is that he might be considered clinically insane.

That isn't it, though, and Pyrrha knows it.

Actually, when she was growing up, Pyrrha's dad, Percy, was worse. She didn't know who he was, really, when she was growing up, because it was like having a stranger living in your own home.

Every night there were screams and the sound of Sally trying to comfort her son, before simply giving him another one of Hecate Cabin's potions (though Pyrrha didn't know what they were then). He stares into the walls and plays with a ballpoint pen until Sally takes it away with worried and exasperated admonitions and hardly ever eats, though on good days he might take a bite out of the blue pasta. Sally and Paul don't really know what he's seeing, not really, though they have a guess.

(They don't want to know, and neither do we.)

There were always visitors, and on the good days (when he remembers and when he speaks) they left with somber smiles. On the bad days (and he screamed or whimpered or cried or just wouldn't stop laughing and kept asking, "Who are you?") they left with tear tracks.

When she's five years old and ever so confused about who this man is, they go to Montauk.

She doesn't remember it really clearly. They're on the ride and going there before she starts school. Percy plays absentmindedly with Pyrrha's hair while Paul and Sally sit in the front. They're driving slowly, there's not much to run from anymore except for a monster who wants the half-faded glory of killing the Hero of Olympus (even then, Sally has a celestial bronze shotgun, a gift from Frederick Chase), and no one wants to excite a demigod and a little child.

When they get there, Paul and Sally have to get everything from the car. Maybe Percy offers to help in a moment of clarity, but Sally shakes her head kindly and tells him to sit down.

He sits on the sand and Pyrrha climbs into his lap.

There are limits to telling just the facts. Just the facts would lead to an emotionless story that can't touch anyone's soul. Just the facts would mean a history. We're trying to give a legend its ending (never the one he deserves, but the one he gets and the beginning of another). We'll take a gander at the emotions, and you'll have to take a leap of faith and trust us.

Trust us.

They listen to the waves and these Oceanids wave from the froth. It is something like peace.

(There's a Daughter of Neptune and a Daughter of Poseidon, did you know? They're from the same mother and both go to the Roman Camp, where they aren't treated with respect, but no one expects so much from them either- It's another tale even if it isn't, since it is happening today. They are one and two years older than Pyrrha, and they'll probably be heroes one day.)

The Oceanids have always loved to play with children of Poseidon, and this one may be a little cracked and broken, but still waves back.

Pyrrha burrows deeper into her father's (though she isn't all that sure if he is) chest, a bright orange t-shirt abomination. Percy looks down, confused for a moment before saying, as if some great epiphany from the heavens, "Pyrrha," and they all know that it's going to be a good day. Seawater heals him, and this is the first time that the water does not pull away to avoid him.

His shaking fingers reach forward to touch the water, and it comes to him like an old friend.

The rest of the visit, they play in the water and lie in the Sun and Pyrrha never really notices how she never needs to come up to breathe. She smiles and she gets salt in her eyes and the sea really is something else. This will always be the time she gives half a heart to the ocean.

Percy lets himself float in the sea, and some cracks are healing.

And when they go home, that's when he starts talking, mostly in whispers, to tell her those myths that always come with an image of grey eyes and blonde hair, but the green-eyed, blonde-haired little girl is perfection enough for him. Percy reads Pyrrha the Odyssey and the Iliad in slow, unsteady tones as it slowly rocks her to sleep. He falls asleep right beside her and on the good nights, Sally just tucks them in.

(On the bad nights, Paul and Sally have to move him to another room to muffle the screams.)

But then, on all the good days that make one out of four, she wakes him up in the morning, he stares into her eyes unblinkingly, whispering, "Pyrrha," before taking her in his arms. She declares with all the seriousness of a five year old, "I love you."

He smiles without even a tenth of the brilliance of before, though there's probably a hint of the troublemaker, before mouthing, "Me too."

(On the bad days, Sally bandages his arms and cuts his nails and hopes that the marks will not scar. She's a mother, one of the best that a demigod could ever have. She's a mother and she has suffered so long.)

It would be cliche for us to say that she wouldn't have it any other way. It would be a lie, never mind the cliche.

You don't want little white lies, you wouldn't be here if you did.

Pyrrha would want it another way; she wants to no longer hope on the chance that her dad will have a good day, she wants to no longer have to block out the screams at night, she wants to no longer have an absent mother (even if, when she grows, but not when she's still a child, she realizes that it would be such a selfish thing), she wants to no longer have to endure her grandmother's defeated sighs, she wants to no longer have to watch them sigh, and she wants to no longer live in fear of the monsters under her bed.

She wants white picket fences, even if she doesn't know it yet.

In the end, don't we all? You, me, everyone. We all want happy lives that we give up the moment we're born. We all wish we can try again in Hades and get another life where we don't have to be heroes and we can just have joy.

She'll ask him again and again on the days he stares into the wall, what do you see what do you see-

He'll never answer.

_White picket fences white picket fences-_

(If you ask Sally Jackson if her son is insane, she will smile and shake her head. He isn't insane, he has not lost his mind, he's just somewhere where everything is always hurting.)

Pyrrha is angry, so angry, that no one ever gives her any answers to why her dad is like this, that they hide him and treat him almost like a shameful secret (but we swear, it was never their intention), but this is family and she wouldn't trade it for-

Just another lie. We're used to that by now.

* * *

><p>If you really want to know.<p>

_What do you see, dad, what do you see-_

**Smoke.**

**Seawater.**

**Death.**

**Endless darkness**

**-stop falling-**

**-stop screaming-**

**-the son of neptune shall drown-**

**...**

**Blonde hair.**

**Blue cookies.**

**Say hello to the stars**

**And the strawberry fields.**

**-don't worry my dear this darkness is never-**

**-endless-**

**-don't cry my dear do smile my dear-**

**-my dearest love-**

**-we will meet again-**

"As long as we're together."

But they're not, not anymore, and that's why we're telling this story.

(Did you know? Did you know that Nico di Angelo, son of the Underworld, once called him the strongest demigod he has ever encountered? It doesn't matter at the end of the story, but it's a fair trade. An insignificant demigod for the fate of humanity, and no one to mourn except the ones who do.)

* * *

><p>When she's twelve and having one of many Parent-Teacher Conferences, she's not so sure what she wants. Pyrrha hates school, and apparently that's something she has in common with her dad.<p>

She gets stories sometimes. Sally or Paul tells her how Percy 'accidentally' blows up school band rooms and somehow manages to get kicked out of every school-

This is the first school she's managed to stay at for more than one year, and it is actually an almost favorite for half-bloods because the teachers don't poke and people don't ask questions. Yes, we all wish we had one of those, but fortune to whoever finds one. Of course, if you are a Roman demigod, then this perhaps does not apply to you, but demigods, and maybe it's universal, have never been good at following the rules.

It starts something like this: "Mr. and Mrs. Blofis, how are you today?" the principal asks without quite meaning it. None of the teachers like Pyrrha all that much, but perhaps the principal hates her the very most. With all the incidents that get her sent to the office every week or so, it reflects badly everywhere and Pyrrha, for the rest of the year, will be that nuisance that he can never get rid of.

"Let's get down to business. Mr. and Mrs. Blofis, I am concerned about the disciplinary actions that you are taking at home. After each toe over the line, Pyrrha has shown that she learns nothing from the experiences. Do you punish her at all when she gets home? You must understand that learning can't solely be at school, it must be supported by the parents at home."

Sally looks to her hands and shakes her head, while Paul interjects, "We'll do better, we promise. Pyrrha just needs to get reigned in a little bit."

"Mr. Blofis, I understand that you care for Pyrrha, but only a parent can understand, and I believe that you are the grandfather?"

"Yes," Sally grinds out, "And what are you implying?"

The principal swallows and straightens his tie. "Simply the fact that, as grandparents, you may be prone to coddling the child. It is nothing to be ashamed of, it's simply a pattern that I have noticed." Ignoring Sally and Paul's seething looks, he continues, "I understand that Pyrrha's mother is separated from her, but, at the next Parent-Teacher Conference tomorrow, I would like Mr. Jackson to make an appearance."

It's silent, and if he's expecting an answer, there will be no satisfaction. We'd imagine that, at the back of minds, there is the sound of nightmares.

"No."

(Never, since no one can remember the last time that Percy goes somewhere where he needs to be, he needs to be, he needs to be there-)

Paul looks pained as he tries to remedy what might be considered rudeness on Sally's part. "I don't think Percy should come, it wouldn't be...safe." Pyrrha's face is turning red and she doesn't quite know if it's shame, fear, or rage. She might want to scream or she might want to cry, because her father's always been a mystery, because no one will ever answer her questions, because the world isn't right and she doesn't want everyone to pretend it is-

The man gives away a barest hint of a snarl. "Well, I'm sorry that you want to make that decision, but I would like to talk to Mr. Jackson before you finalize-" This is something we are all familiar with. Pyrrha knows now what this feeling is. It is defiance; it is anger.

She sees red.

"Why not?" Pyrrha declares fiercely, half cursing the world and half wishing the sky would fall down, "Why not? He hasn't been out for ages. We've buried him like some sort of shameful secret and he's never been to anything of mine. It's always been the two of you, and maybe Mom when she actually visits and she doesn't. So why not? Why not? You've never told me anything and you've never let me have my life because everything has to be so safe! Let him come! Show them! It's not like- My dad is not a- It isn't true- Are we supposed to be ashamed of this? Are we? Let them have it!"

She doesn't realize until she's finished that she's standing up and screaming at her grandparents with her arms gesturing wildly and fingers tugging at her own hair. She doesn't doesn't realize until she's finished that there's something like tears streaking down her reddening face. (We've all had that happen to us before. A demigod's life is never without a tear.)

Sally smiles slightly while the principal looks on silently. "I guess we should."

Pyrrha asks him over dinner that night, and all he does is stare for a moment and nod.

(You know, he's never been able to say no to her.)

So, when they go, they attract glances (as demigods always do).

Pyrrha is a black sheep in this school, and maybe she has one or two people who she can call her friend, but otherwise there's no one. She doesn't know if that induces some sick fascination in the school loner, or if it's a small enough school that a new face at the conference can attract those looks. Some mothers stare for a moment at the young man, wondering who he is and how he can be the father, before getting to the scandalized thought of the teen pregnancy. Then, he turns, and they see his eyes wide and hands shaking and lips mouthing silent words and-

We'd like to believe that there are no mad men in the world. We'd like to believe that there are no broken husks wandering the world. We'd like to believe the world is our only paradise.

All the mothers and fathers stop staring at the odd, shaking man, except for one woman with eyes like a hawk and a hint of a smile, fingers in her handbag and other hand on the shoulder of her vicious child.

They finally call her in and before they go, Pyrrha asks him, "Are you sure?" and he nods slowly.

When she looks back later, this is the turning point. If she just turns back and decides to call Paul or Sally, she would be able to have ignorance for a few more unhappy years (and there's a gun in the closet, celestial bronze).

She takes him by the hand and leads him in.

There are four things she remembers about this:

The teacher tries to talk and fumbles again and again, afraid of making a mistake and offending someone and dammit why didn't anyone warn him?

Her dad plays with a pen-

He's not supposed to have that. The only time she's ever seen that in her entire life (even if we know more about it than she does) is when she's five and Sally grabs it away from her son, making him promise again and again never to touch it because they can't risk that, can't trust him with it and it's a hazard and he used to be a hero-

She takes it away and admonishes him.

The last thing: monsters.

After all, there will always be a monster who has yet to quit. There will always be a monster who will want to take the crowning glory of killing Percy Jackson and his daughter.

This time, two empousa with vengeance.

Pyrrha sees her father retrieve his pen from his pocket with an alert, haunted look in his eye, before taking her by the hand and running as fast as he can. There's a vampire lady with donkey legs chasing after them and they're a ten blocks from home

"Look how the mighty have fallen," the sickening voice mocks, "the great Perseus Jackson, just a half-mad fool who can hardly lift a sword. How did you ever defeat the mother Earth?"

It echoes and bounces off the alley walls and the monster has a bright smile that will never stop.

(Empousa lips as red as blood.)

She tries to draw him in, but it doesn't quite work, won't quite work, because those little ripped up essences don't work quite the same as others. Percy Jackson uncaps Riptide, taking it with both hands, and it's almost like he is who he was, even if that is something he will never be again. He no longer fights like a hurricane and this is an old empousa with her young protege, searching for glory and vengeance in a world that does not take kindly to bloodsuckers. The empousa slashes at him and lands so many times, too many, for the past Percy Jackson.

So Pyrrha sees her dad fight a beast with lips of blood, standing paralyzed for that second in the face of this danger, before picking a half-shattered pipe from off the ground and throwing it at the older empousa.

A distraction is enough.

(She's a smart little girl, Pyrrha is, a smart little demigod. It comes with being a legacy of Athena.)

They get home and Percy's cuts are healed with the ambrosia and nectar in the cupboard. He takes her into his arms and holds her and she holds back because she doesn't know what happened but she doesn't need to know yet because they're a lovely little family that has so much to lose but can't really lose much more-

An hour later, she's sitting in the car with the rest of her family.

(Pyrrha doesn't know when she stops counting her mother.)

(It isn't quite fair to Annabeth Chase, but that's life.)

They're going to Long Island.

* * *

><p>When the daughter of the two greatest heroes in this day and age arrives at Camp Half-Blood, her name is suddenly Pyrrha Blofis and she is a daughter of Athena.<p>

(Pyrrha finally learns, and this time she's making the decision for herself, and she doesn't want her life to be defined by who her father, the father she loves completely and resents so much, is and who he will never be again.)

(We saw her once. Chiron was teaching history, to the point of Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase. And the question is asked, "Isn't Percy Jackson insane?")

(She stood up and said, "He's a hero." Is.)

She'll be a hero one day, you've already seen.

She'll save the world again and again, because that's fate and that's how inheritance and that's what they expect from her when they find that she is the daughter of Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase. That's what she's supposed to be.

Oh the tangled threads of fate...

Pyrrha will shine.

Burn bright.

Scatter to the sound of waves.

But, once upon a time, she's a little girl on the beach, and her heart is in the ocean.

* * *

><p><em>AN: I transferred this from google docs, so all my italics are gone. Well.<em>

_Who gives a care?_

_By the way, this is a gift fic for my friend's birthday, but I don't know her FF account because apparently she thinks I would BLACKMAIL her (I would). _

_-happy early birthday to J-z-_

_(happy now thwipppy?_)


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